Whitfield Throp
by Josephine Stone
Summary: Draco likes to watch people buying his books; Harry likes to watch Draco.


**Written For:** hd_fan_fair  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> # 216  
><strong>Rating<strong>: PG-13  
><strong>Career Choices:<strong> Harry: Bookshop owner; Draco: author  
><strong>Pairing(s):<strong> Harry/Draco  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Draco likes to watch people buying his books; Harry likes to watch Draco.  
><strong>Word Count:<strong> 4360  
><strong>Author's Notes:<strong> I'd like to thank the mods for being so patient with me (I've very scatter-brained this last couple months) and to my beta, digthewriter, who is always there for me; you're all amazing.

* * *

><p>Draco flipped through the pages of a book called <em>Tiny Beasts<em>, as Harry stocked the front display with best sellers. It was an early morning and very quiet. Only a few customers came in at that time, and the first shift for his clerks didn't start for another hour. It was rare for Draco to be there that early in the morning, but it was the release day for the new Whitfield Throp novel. Draco shouldn't be there. At Harry Potter's bookshop of all places, but his curiosity always got the best of him and Harry always let him in before shop hours to browse.

They _weren't_ friends—Draco wasn't sure what to call them—but defining them by their customer/business relationship was too distant for their past, and their past had no bearing on their reality as it was. He would say he was one of Harry's favourite customers, except he wasn't positive it was true. Draco _did_ spend quite a bit of money in Harry's shop, but it was snowing that first day when Harry invited him prior to the shop being opened; Draco was sure Harry would have invited anyone he knew who would have been waiting for his shop to open in that moment.

Fifteen minutes until opening time, customers began to queue up outside the door. The day was bright and warm for autumn. Draco slinked to the back of the shop and up to the second floor balcony, so as not to be seen by the men and women waiting outside. He scanned the shelves for a book to read while he watched the crowd.

Harry opened the door to the line waiting, which let in his morning shift clerks as well. The clerks headed straight to the back of the shop, while the customers began dismantling the display Harry had worked all morning to put together. The smarter customers went straight to the till to pick up the copies they had pre-ordered.

Draco smirked as Harry sneaked away from the crowd, then took the book to one of the arm chairs near the edge of the balcony. It faced towards the shelves, so that he wasn't immediately visible to the people passing by below him. Yet he could still see the crowds when he glanced down past the left arm of the chair.

Draco knew. It was vain of him, he knew. And dangerous. But he couldn't help himself. He read the reviews, but he couldn't respond to them. He knew the sales, but he couldn't thank anyone for supporting him. It was the nature of being anonymous, but as all authors were, he needed this part even if he wasn't ready to acknowledge that he was Whitfield Throp.

He looked back to his book and caught Harry smiling at him.

Taking a deep breath in, Draco pretended to read the fairy tales in front of him. It was only a matter of time that Harry would figure it out. Draco had stayed all day on his book opening days. Harry had seen the books Draco looked at, and Draco had caught _him_ reading the new releases just like his customers. He couldn't be thick enough to _not_ put it together eventually.

But Draco thought, perhaps it wouldn't be the end of the world for Harry to share this secret with him.

#

'I don't understand,' Ron said as he shook his head at Harry. A bemused smiled pulled his lips wide as he handed a stack of books to Harry. 'Have you forgotten who he is?'

It was nearing closing time on one of their busiest days, and it was one of the few days that Draco was at the bookshop the whole day. Harry rolled his eyes and took the books before turning his back on his best mate.

'You're acting like a lovestruck schoolboy.'

But Harry was gone, weaving through the aisles hoping that one of the books would bring him closer to where Draco was wandering around in the back. No one understood him anymore, they said as though they had ever known him before. When he didn't sign up with the Aurors, it made headlines. They were equally shocked at him buying a bookshop, and even Ron and Hermione were surprised that he stocked the shelves himself by hand.

Of course, he hired clerks, the shop was packed with people wanting to get a good look at him right after he opened up, as well as days like that one had been: a Whitfield Throp release day.

The clerks dealt with the customers. Harry hid from them.

'If you don't like customers, why'd you get a shop in the first place?' Ron asked. 'And why a _book_shop?'

Harry didn't have a solid reason for some of the decisions he made right after the end of the war, but he was happy with most of them.

'It just feels right,' was all he'd say.

Ron never went into the Aurors either. He worked with George in his shop, but often came by to help Harry when George was getting on his nerves. Which was more and more often as George became more and more himself.

And Draco . . . wasn't any easier to explain.

Harry's shop had been opened for a couple of years before Draco first stepped in it. He didn't seek Harry out, and at first Harry avoided him. But a few days later he came back, and then more and more frequently. Since he knew Draco didn't come to see him, and he hadn't once _actually seen him_, Harry felt pride in the fact that Draco Malfoy liked his shop.

And that feeling was his first hint that, maybe, Harry liked Malfoy.

'He is nice to look at,' Rosaline was telling Ron when Harry made his way back to them. Ron was unconvinced.

'There are plenty of fit blokes that aren't self-abso—er . . .'

Harry took another stack of books. 'Can we pick another topic of conversation, please?'

'Oh, but this is our favourite one.' Rosaline slipped one more book on top of his stack before he could back away. 'Not much else _to_ talk about in a bookshop.'

'You could talk about books.'

Ron and Rosaline shared a look.

None of them, not even Harry, were really avid-readers. Ron was there for Harry, and Rosaline applied because she wanted a job where she wouldn't spend her paycheck at before making her way to the exit. None of the other places she applied appreciated her logic, but it made Harry laugh. With everyone asking him why he of all people would want a bookshop—_he didn't even read books!_—it was nice to be around one person who didn't question him on it.

'Bookshops are peaceful,' she'd say. 'Like libraries, without stress: you're not forced to be there by some overzealous, bookwork obsessed teacher, and you can have conversations and even laugh without everyone's eyes sending stinging hexes at you.'

And Harry might not have been a reader who was in the same league with Hermione, but he actually _did_enjoy reading. The books he read were . . . not something he'd want to discuss with his friends. Ron wouldn't be interested, and Hermione might think pushing him towards her reading habits had become an option.

He liked fiction. Something with adventure and romance, and with wizarding books most of them seemed liked fantasies. There were always magical creatures and magic in them, because for the authors they were part of their everyday lives. And there was something Harry loved about everyday life that just happened to have magic in it, as oppose to Muggle books where magic meant everything around the characters changed.

There was shuffling on the other side of the bookcase Harry was stocking, and he froze realising that it was Draco. Harry slipped the book from the top of his pile in its place and then walked softly toward the end of the aisle. Peering around the book case he saw Draco—lost in the middle of a thick book about Poland. It was the only word Harry could see from where he stood.

Harry crouched to see if he could catch the rest of the title—forgetting about the large stack of books he had floating beside him, until they came tumbling down on him. On the floor, underneath the pile of books, he saw Draco, upside down, looking down on him.

The title was simply: _Poland_.

'Um, anything I can help you find?' Harry never dealt with customers, but that sounded like something that would have been appropriate to say; had he been standing up.

'I'm just looking.'

Draco always was. It's not that he never bought anything. He bought something almost every other day, but he spent a lot of time "looking" prior to that.

Harry rolled over, picked himself up, and began to gather the books. 'Are you going somewhere?'

'Only to the till. . . ?'

'I mean—' Harry gestured toward the book on Poland. 'Are you planning to visit Poland?'

'No . . . '

'It's just this _is_ the travel section.' Merlin, he _was_ acting like a schoolboy. Nothing he said was coming out right, and Draco was looking at him as there might be something wrong with him.

'Well,' Draco said, 'I'll just head that way then.' He nodded toward the front of the shop.

'I'll go with you.'

Draco gave him a questioning look. 'You never run the till.'

'I can, though.' Harry forced a laugh. 'I own the shop; I can run the till.'

'I know; it's sadly still a topic of great interest to the community:' Draco pitched his voice high and continued, '"Did you know that _Harry Potter_ owns a bookshop?"' Then low: '"Yes, _he has done for years now_."' Another more midtone added in, '"I've even seen him stocking the shelves himself: _by hand_."' Then finished returning to his regular voice. 'Shocking, completely shocking, that he has the ability to do something other than point his wand at wizards, disarming them.'

Harry choked, and coughed to cover it up.

Once they made it to the counter, Harry took over the till to the amusement of both Rosaline and Ron. Rosaline kept trying to whisper to him with which buttons to push.

'I know how to work the till,' Harry said, and then mumbled to himself, 'I trained you.'

After the exchange of money and Harry said he hoped to see Draco again, Draco answered, 'It's been an unusual and slightly awkward visit, but I'm sure that won't stop me from venturing back.'

Rosaline snorted and once Draco had walked away, Ron said, 'I'm not sure if that was an insult, so I'll play it safe and assume it was, but I'm certain that was a "yes". You talked to him, mate. That's a step up. Give it a few weeks and he'll be throwing insults at you daily, and then maybe we can go back to the way it was a Hogwarts.'

'Though, hopefully,' Rosaline said, 'there will be no tackling each other in the shop.'

Harry rolled his eyes. 'I know he isn't one of the friendliest blokes.'

'Friendliest?' Rosaline asked. 'Try "not one of the civilist".'

'Is that even a word?' Harry gathered up the books he'd discarded to ring up Draco. 'I can't explain it; it just happened. I hated him for years and after the war when I stopped hating him I just . . . never lost interest. And then he started coming in here all the time being all interesting . . . '

Ron groaned.

'What?' Rosaline asked.

'It's like the "he's up to something" only in reverse.'

'He _was_ up to something.' It was nothing like sixth year. He didn't have a crush on Draco in sixth year. Draco _had been_ up to; something, a lot of somethings. Harry hadn't even known he was attracted to blokes their sixth year. 'And you don't find it interesting that he reads about such strange topics?'

'No,' Ron said. 'Not really.'

'Like today, he's in the travel section, but he says he isn't going anywhere. Isn't that odd?'

'Perhaps,' Rosaline said, 'he simply has many interest or enjoys learning about things he hadn't heard much about.'

'_Tiny Beasts_?'

At their blank looks, Harry said, 'That's what he was reading this morning before we opened.'

'You know, mate. You're the one who orders the books.'

'It's true.' Rosaline nodded.

Harry took his books and walked away. That didn't mean anything. Draco was interesting, at least to Harry. His interests were . . . interesting . . .

Ron was right: Harry was being a fool. He'd known Draco since they were eleven. He had no problem talking to him for years—even if it was simply trading insults. Harry placed the top book from his pile on the shelf, and then hit the others with a quick succession of spells.

They flew about the shop finding their homes as Harry ran out the front door.

'Did he just?' Ron started and Rosaline finished, 'shelve the books with a spell?'

Harry cursed himself halfway down the block. Draco could have been headed anywhere, and for all Harry knew he was home sitting by the fire reading his new book. _About Poland_. He was turning around to head back to his shop when he saw him just ahead and called out:

'Draco!' Harry ran to catch him, as he wasn't sure if Draco heard him. He almost ran Draco over grabbing Draco's arm to keep himself from tumbling to the ground. Still high from the adrenaline rush, when Draco held Harry's other arm to help steady him and began to say something—Harry kissed him.

'Well, I guess there's no need to ask what your intentions are.'

'Right . . . '

'I shouldn't have expected as much more. You've always been the impulsive sort.'

'Um, yeah.'

'As well as too fond of one word answers . . .'

'Sorry?'

Draco folded his arms across his chest and waited.

'Look, I find you interesting—'

'And attractive, presumably, you don't just kiss every interesting person you meet.' Draco paused. 'Right?'

'No, I don't.'

'Good.' Draco smirked. 'I assume dinner isn't out of the question being that you kissed me on a busy street?'

Harry hesitated. He had no problem being seen with Draco in public—if that was what that comment had even meant—, but he wasn't a fan of dining out for a 'getting to know someone better date'. He hated fancy restaurants and anything he didn't consider fancy no one considered a good date night restaurant.

'Or, we wouldn't have to eat,' Draco said.

'Are you saying yes?'

'You haven't actually asked yet.' Draco laughed. 'But it would be nice to get out and go do something with another person. Pick something; then owl me.'

#

'What should we do?' Harry asked Ron when he got back to the shop.

'Well, he likes books and you own his favourite bookshop.'

'No,' Rosaline said. 'They both spend too much time here as it is. How about you go to a theatre?'

Harry wanted something more personal.

'I still say the bookshop; You live right upstairs, so—'

'Ron!'

#

Harry couldn't believe he was actually taking _Ron's advice_. Well, sort of. He didn't invite him to look around the bookshop. He did, however, invite him to his flat above it, and he made dinner.

'It's smaller than I expected,' Draco said. 'Compared to . . .'

'The shop? Yeah, well, it has a lot of wizard's space. I kept adding sections and needed more space, but I haven't run into the same problem up here. I don't need much to live.'

Draco sat on his lounge sipping Firewhisky, while Harry made the finishing touches to dinner. Harry could see him from the kitchen as the room was connected and mostly open space. The only rooms closed off were the toilet, the shower, and his bedroom.

'So . . .' Harry said as he brought the food to the table. 'Poland?'

Draco stood and joined him. 'Are you still on about that?'

'I just find the subjects you read about interesting.'

Draco smiled. 'Have you ever heard of the crooked forest?'

'No.'

'I like to look up interesting places—there is a forest near Gryfino, Poland where all the trees grow at a 90 degree angle, and then curved back up. I bought the book to have it as a reference of the place in case I ever needed it.'

'Though, not to actually _go_ there?'

'No.' Draco smirked. 'What are you trying to get at?'

Harry didn't know what to say. He wasn't trying to get _at_ anything at all. 'I—just am interested is all.'

'Because you want to know what the books are _for_, or because you already know?'

'Um.' Harry scratched his head once again lost on what Draco was talking about. 'Because I want to know more about you . . . I like you.'

'Oh.' Draco blushed, and then he was one to be at a loss for words. 'You don't—' Draco cleared his throat. 'So . . . why a bookshop?'

Harry groaned.

'Its the secret everyone wants to know.'

Harry was tired of the question despite that he'd yet to answer anyone who'd asked it.

'If you tell me why you chose your job, I'll tell you about mine.'

That perked Harry up. He hadn't even thought of Draco having an occupation. Especially one that let him spend hours upon hours in Harry's bookshop. Draco delicately ate his food, while Harry picked his apart trying to figure out how to answer the question. He was suddenly very curious about Draco's job.

'It's a complicated question,' Harry started, honestly. 'After the war, I was tired. Hermione says I was depressed, but I just felt empty. Not in pain, but just . . . like a void.'

'That sounds a bit like depression to me.'

Harry laughed. 'Well, I was sitting there staring at the Auror application and reading through the question, and I just couldn't fill it out . . . I didn't want to chase wizards down anymore. After I decided that . . . I didn't know what to do with myself. So I didn't do anything for a long time.

'Then one day I was walking down this—' Harry gestured toward the window, '—road and watching everyone going about their lives. Seeing the shops reopened, and new ones I'd never seen before, and it was almost like walking down this street for the first time again. Then I saw this shop abandoned and I decided to buy it. I think they used to sell clothes here before.

'I moved in up here and I'd sit over there by the window and just watch people . . .

'But, you wanted to know about _books_.'

'Right.' Draco smiled and Harry's stomach flipped. This part was slightly embarrassing for Harry.

'Hermione started reading romance novels and I _caught_ her. They were tragic Veela romances by that one writer, what was her name? Winter Lea. She was so embarrassed, because she saw it as a waste of time. But she loved it.

'I had nothing but time . . . and I was trying to work through some questions I had about my—'

'Sexuality?'

Harry nodded. 'That's another long story, but that is when I started reading. I read so many books, but I had no place to put them. So they started to gather downstairs as I got through them. Soon a whole bookcase was full of my read through books, and without giving it much thought I started to clean up the cobwebs.

'I didn't put a lot of thought into it. It was just a thought, and then it happened. I don't _regret_ it. I've never been much of a planner; just a get up and doer. I can't pinpoint the moment I thought: _a bookshop that'd be a grand life_, because I don't think I ever had that moment. Sorry, I've been rambling.'

'It's nice to hear to talk.' Draco had already finished his meal.

'There's no easy answer for that question, is all.'

Draco chuckled. 'It's fine.' He paused. 'I write—that's what the books are for. To help me imagine places and things to write about. I started writing when I was young.'

Harry remembered Draco's 'song' that he used to make fun of Ron. It didn't surprise him that Draco wrote after thinking about it. Though he thought he'd have heard about it if _Draco Malfoy_ had released a book.

'What sort of things do you write?'

'Romance, adventure.' Draco smirked. 'I know, me, adventure. I write about the things I never had the courage to do myself. So my characters go places—'

'Like _Poland_.'

Draco nodded. 'And they encounter things—'

'Like _Tiny Beasts_.'

'And they fall in love, generally, with men.'

'Are you afraid of that?'

Draco looked up and their eyes met. 'I think,' he said, 'that is one of the things you can't avoid no matter how hard you try. You can refuse to date, but you can't stop yourself from falling.'

'I'm not much one for adventures, anymore. I also prefer them in my books now.'

'I know. It makes you much less frightening than you used to be.'

Did that mean that he'd been afraid of Harry for a long time, or if the idea of being with Harry would have been frightening before? Harry was going to have to learn how to decode Draco. But either way that was Harry's past and not his present nor future, so he didn't worry about it then.

'I don't want to push you to go too fast—'

Draco laughed. 'You couldn't possibly: however long you've been wanting this, be sure I've wanted it longer.'

Was he really going to turn _even this_ into a competition? Harry was annoyed for only a moment, before he gathered what that meant. It didn't matter which one wanted the other longer. All that mattered was that they both wanted this. He wasn't going to let Draco start a fight this early.

So Harry stood and held his hand out to Draco, who took it and followed Harry to his bedroom.

#

Apparently, Harry _was_ thick enough not to put two and two together. Draco had froze upon entering Harry's bedroom the night before: all of his books had a dedicated shelf in Harry's room. They hadn't been banished to the used section of his bookshop like all the others. He should have told Harry who he was then.

The morning after always shined light on the differences between people. Which was why Draco already had a cup of coffee and sat watching the sun rise on the bench that Harry had talked about the previous night, while Harry snored in the other room.

The beginning of relationships are always sweet and he'd hate to ruin it so soon. He imagined Harry would be happy that Draco was his favourite author, but Draco was worried. Harry wasn't interested in him _because_ he loved his books, but he was a fan nonetheless. He smiled at the thought. Harry was a fan of _his_.

It still made him nervous.

To think how much he would have loved the idea at pretty much any other moment of his life.

'Morning,' Harry called from the doorway of his bedroom. 'Are you always up this early?'

'It's when I write.'

Harry nodded and crossed the room to him.

Draco would write through the early morning hours and then spend the afternoon and most the evening lost in one shop or another.

'Do you need to go?'

He thought about it for a moment. 'No. I'm allowed days off. It's a perk of being your own boss.'

'Hmmm. I can't remember the last time I gave myself the day off.' Harry had his arms folded across his chest and his face was guarded, waiting to see Draco's reaction.

Did he want to spend the day with Harry? Or did he think they needed some time apart after how much time they'd spent together the night before?

'I'm Whitfield Throp.'

Harry said nothing for a moment and then: 'What?'

It wasn't the answer he was expecting. It was obvious then that Harry hadn't even been thinking about Draco's writing. Draco smirked at Harry's confused face.

'I'd thought you'd put it together yourself, before last night. But, I can see you hadn't . . . you watched me research my last _two_ books, and I saw you read this new one all day yesterday when you thought no one was looking.'

When Harry just stared at him, Draco continued, 'I just thought that you'd like to know. I didn't want it to be hanging out there for a long time if we're . . . in a relationship, or are going to be in a relationship.'

'Are you saying "yes" to a relationship?'

'Well, you haven't asked yet.' Draco looked back out the window. It wouldn't be so bad really. Harry wasn't the crazy type of fan, and he didn't look at Draco any different since the revelation.

'Yes, I'm saying "yes" to a relationship.'


End file.
